


let the stars shine

by Falcine



Series: Wild Living [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Gen, Sith Obi-Wan, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcine/pseuds/Falcine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coruscant, a sun set, a bottle of Corellian brandy--Anakin and Obi-Wan have a talk. Who really killed Qui-Gon Jinn?</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the stars shine

Sunsets on Coruscant have never awed him, but Anakin props his arms on the edge of the balcony and tips his head back anyways. Tonight, the sky is hazy but shining all the same, and he thinks it looks a bit like boiling blood. 

Kenobi is drunk. 

Or, if he’s not drunk, he’s getting there. The bottle clings to his fingertips, his arm limp and hanging, his face turned away. 

Anakin wonders if he’s finally let his guard down or if he’s just too far gone to care. He wonders why it even matters to him. He feels so helpless in this moment, his fingers twitching towards his lightsaber but knowing he can do nothing. The anger always thrumming under his skin is dulled, but still runs like a current through him, and a voice inside him whispers,  _ you could kill him. _

Then, Anakin thinks  _ Qui-Gon wouldn’t ever have looked at you the same, mom would but only because she’s mom,  _ and he clenches his fist and the rage only grows. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Kenobi mutters, his voice only slightly muddled. He chuckles and takes another gulp of whatever liquor he has sloshing around in the bottle. When he turns, his eyes are strangely alert, like he hadn’t just finished off half the bottle in one chug.

Anakin snorts. “What?” 

“I can feel your anger, you know.” This time, Kenobi’s voice is dry as the desert. Anakin scowls and doesn’t dignify Kenobi with a response. 

Kenobi coughs, and it is a wracking cough that seems to shake his entire body. Anakin finds himself reaching out almost before he can help it, and he snatches his hand back in a rough jerk, crossing his arms instead. The cough turns into a laugh and Anakin knows that Kenobi can tell the instinctive flash of concern he felt just then and he doesn’t know if he hates himself or Kenobi more for it. 

“I know you want to kill me.” 

“And you want to kill me. What else is new?” Anakin deadpans, keeping his voice flat and emotionless, staring resolutely at the setting sun.

The sky churns, and Anakin wonders why the Coruscanti would make the clouds so thick, why they want to cover the stars. He cranes his head back again and watches the darkness creep in.

From his side, there is a thump, as if Kenobi has finally passed out. Anakin reluctantly tips his head back down only to see Kenobi with his head in his hands, leaning so heavily on the railing he might just fall off. The bottle sits at his feet. 

“I did, for a while, but not anymore,” Kenobi rasps. 

“What?” His gaze is still fixated on the slump of Kenobi’s shoulders, how  _ tired  _ he looks. Anakin didn’t dare reach out to his force presence--he’d learned the hard way not to do that the last time they fought--but he thinks that anyone could read the defeat in Kenobi’s pose. 

Kenobi barely moves. You can only see the rise and fall of his breathing if you squint in the dying light. 

When Kenobi laughs, it is half a wheeze. His shoulders jerk up and down, just once. “I did want to kill you. I hated you.” 

This is not news, because why else did Kenobi only ever seem to clash with  _ his  _ blade (never Qui-Gon’s, not until the end). But Kenobi has never admitted it before. But.  _ Hated?  _

“I know,” Anakin says, doesn’t ask, doesn’t want to know. 

Then, Kenobi is looking up at him again, his dim eyes peeking out from the crook of his arm. “I was young and stupid and I was being replaced by someone younger and stupider. Can you blame me?” 

“You made your choices,” Anakin spits. 

“Qui-Gon chose you.” 

“How  _ dare you, _ ” Anakin says, fire licking at his throat.

He wants to reach out and--and--Anakin’s fingers close on nothing and he imagines Kenobi’s throat beneath them, but Kenobi doesn’t seem to be talking to him anymore. He reaches a hand down to grasp his bottle, staring out into nothing. “He was my master, first, you know.” 

For some strange reason, the anger bleeds out of him like some part of him has been cut away. He wants to be angry, wants to hate how blase Kenobi sounds, but it’s like the strength has been sapped out of his limbs. Anakin tries to grasp at the memories of the shiny cold ship and a smiling Obi-Wan, but there is nothing. The only thing he remembers of Kenobi before is a small smirk, the roll of his eyes, a sullen glare sent Qui-Gon’s way. 

“That’s what I don’t understand.” Anakin tries to imagine Qui-Gon as Kenobi’s master. Tries.  

“What it felt like to be second best, Chosen One?” 

Anakin scoffs. “You say that like I wanted to be chosen.” 

“Didn’t you?” Kenobi heaves a sigh. “I never hated you because you were a brat, or stupid, or reckless, or because you reminded me too damn much of Qui-Gon like you were actually his son. Mostly it was because you and I both knew he chose you and he tried to tell me that you deserved it.”

And then, suddenly, Anakin is 15 again. 

Suddenly, he feels a the wind on the horizon brush his face with the hint of sand, feels twin rays of hot sun on his back despite the encroaching darkness hanging above their heads.  _ Anakin, you’re my son. You deserve  _ everything. 

Anakin feels like he can’t breathe. He reaches blindly for the bottle, yanks it out of Kenobi’s hands and takes a swig in one move. Kenobi doesn’t say anything, but gives Anakin the vaguest of smirks when he looks up. 

It burns going down, but that only adds to the fire already in his chest. Anakin feels like he’s been burning all his life. He roughly wipes at his mouth, then bends and sets the bottle onto the ground. 

“I didn’t,” he blurts. “Qui-Gon was never my father.” 

Kenobi laughs again, straightening, and Anakin wonders if he ever really was as drunk as he seemed. He is too alert, now, eyes too bright. “He sure wasn’t mine, either.” 

The world sharpens into clarity again, and Anakin feels his anger rushing back. He reaches out, grabs Kenobi’s robes. The edge of the sky is still red, spreading out over the balcony. The screaming of rage and pain and everything threatens to overwhelm him, and Anakin’s voice shakes when he bites out, “Is that why you killed him?”

Kenobi doesn’t say anything for too long. 

Anakin cannot kill him. 

He pushes Kenobi down, falling back against the railing with a burning in his lungs and mind. Kenobi doesn’t get back when he falls, only looks up at Anakin with furrowed brows. He doesn’t even look upset, and it’s this confusion--like Kenobi can’t fathom why Anakin would even question it--that fuels the flames even more. 

Anakin ignites his lightsaber. 

Anakin takes a step towards Kenobi. 

This is when Kenobi starts to laugh. 

It is not the dry wheezing laugh that came before--this time, Kenobi’s laughter is full and loud. Anakin’s eyes blur with tears. 

With a wordless yell, Anakin rushed forwards, lightsaber swinging down and Kenobi didn’t even  _ care  _ and he was probably tricking them all and laughed at them every night because Anakin had been so  _ stupid  _ and--

His lightsaber crashed down onto Kenobi’s own, blue on red, wavering blades locked. 

“How could you?” Anakin screams, gritting his teeth and pushing with all his strength. 

Kenobi looks up, looks Anakin in the eyes. “Skywalker--Anakin,” he says, too calmly, “I didn’t kill Qui-Gon.”

And--

“What?” 

“Sidious killed Qui-Gon, I...I could’ve done something but--” Kenobi cut himself off, then took a breath as if to steady himself. “I won’t blame you for hating me for just standing there. But I didn’t kill Qui-Gon.” 

His blade switches off before he even realizes it. Anakin stumbles back, his mind blank. “What?” he asks again. 

Kenobi switches his own lightsaber off and only watches Anakin with sad eyes. Sad, regretful eyes, Anakin realizes, now. “I’m sorry,” he simply says. 

And Anakin could’ve taken Kenobi’s scorn, could’ve taken Kenobi’s anger, could’ve even taken Kenobi’s flippancy and done something with it. Kenobi’s regret is something entirely different, and Anakin knows, somewhere deep down inside, that it’s not right to meet an apology with violence. 

Anakin doesn’t forgive Kenobi, but he thinks he understands, just a little bit. 

Taking a deep breath, Anakin steadies himself with the railing and slumps down to sit beside Kenobi. He grabs the bottle, still on the ground, and contemplates it for a moment. 

Then, he reaches out and wordlessly offers it to Kenobi. 

Above them, there are no stars, but Anakin knows they are there, somewhere above the artificial clouds that hang over Coruscant. He wonders if Palpatine hid them on purpose, laid a blanket over all of his capital so his citizens could not see how blind they were. 

“I’m sorry things turned out this way,” he says, and swears to himself that he won’t be blind anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, this AU was supposed to be comedic. At least a tragicomedy. I swear the comedy part is pending.


End file.
